It Sends Me Higher Than The Moon
by Elsie M
Summary: People tend to do stupid things at the start of a love story. Blaine Anderson was no exception. When he saw Kurt Hummel for the first time at an Iceskating Tournament, he became infatuated with the skater. He refuses to let Kurt Hummel slip away from him.
1. Every Little Thing

Quinn Fabray was apparently a kind girl. Popular in the innermost circles of figure skating. She was exactly what he needed to start his career. The idea of working with her at first had sent Kurt Hummel into a frenzy of jumps and squeals. Now the idea didn't seem as appealing. She was painful. She pointed out every flaw he might or might not have. She stabbed every insecurity she could find. Yet she never improved upon her own work. She didn't think she perfect. She just thought she was better. That was agonizing. Somehow he had managed to pull through these past few months. He recited the same mantra to himself. _This is for the Olympics_. He had finally made it to New York. If he could pull off his first act with Quinn Fabray of all people? There was no question of whether or not his name would become a household phrase. He just hoped he wouldn't blow it.

Today was the day. The New York society was holding a benefit where some of the greatest skaters in the state would perform. You would think something like this would be a small event. Perhaps in Ohio but in New York? New York didn't have 'small' events. They only had parties. This was one of them. The skaters would be treating the benefit as serious as the US competitions. The crowd was buzzing with judges and spectators ready to find out who would be the ones to look out for later this year. Agents sat with their pens at the ready. Photographer's camera lights shone bright amongst the chatter. It was all prepared.

He looked at his partner. She was beautiful. Her leotard came out in falling pieces of Chiffon at her hips making the illusion of a ball gown. The bodice was intricate in flower, beaded designs in a low strapless shape. See-through lycra provided warmth to her shoulders. Her skates white, new and tightly laced. The girl's make up was flawless with her golden locks tightened into a old style updo. The fringe twisted in a victory roll. Locked to the side of her forehead with multiple, plastic bobby pins that were unnoticeable unless standing right beside her like Kurt was at that moment.

Kurt was assembled in a matching outfit. While she was dressed in light creams, he was in black. The tights as you could imagine, tight on his thighs. Showing every curve of the legs he was quite proud of. His black skates just as heavily weaved together as hers. He worse almost suit like jacket made out of a thin cotton. A cream tie falling for his neck along the top of unitard. In a way, they looked like a couple ready for a Debut. A gay mardi gra version at least. If Quinn in all her sequin glory had been a drag queen, they would be set. Kurt Hummel had never truly liked the costumes he had to wear for his passion. Some were flawless. Usually the ones he picked out. Others like this? They almost placed him into tears. However Quinn had chosen and as his manager had strictly told him? Everything in the end came down to what Quinn wanted.

"-Quinn Fabray and Kurt Hummel to the floor. Quinn Fabray has riskily chosen to work with new figure skater Kurt Hummel. Let us hope that her decision pays off as we watch them present to the song, 'I Do Adore' by Mindy Gledhill."

'_Everything you do it sends me_

_Higher than the moon with every…'_

Grabbing her hand delicately, Kurt Hummel's attitude changed completely. The act beginning immediately. In this song, they were two young kids in love. Quinn had bragged that it reminded her of her prom night while he rolled his eyes. A happy, adoring (IRONY HEIDI! IRONY!) look bloomed in those blue orbs. They began to turn in the floor. A twist of the hips here and there in time with the music. Searching behind her fixed smile, he could see a mischievous look of appraisal; he had yet to finish their careers.

'_Hello, how are you, my darling today?_

_I fall into a pile on the floor.'_

Blaine Anderson screamed at the cars in front of him. Fucking hell. He was going to be killed. Ripped to absolute shreds. Who the hell stops at a green fucking light anyway? Asshole. Rubbing the stubble on his cheek, Blaine gave out a sigh. That was wrong of him. That innocent bus driver did not deserve to be yelled at on a school morning. Let alone those kids. What was wrong with him? He was a family man! He knew exactly what was wrong with him. He was late to the event that would make his career. His boss, Wes Montgomery, owned the greatest magazine firm in New York. Well, his soon-to-be boss. The man had given him a chance. He got the best pictures of this ice skating sham and he got the job. How could he fuck that up? How? Obviously easily.

Why? Because he was fucking Blaine Anderson. He needed this like he needed gel in the morning. Something he had not gotten. His contact lenses had been left on his bathroom basin in a rush. Replaced with thick, hard, black square glasses he was ashamed to admit he owned. His hair was loose, frizzy and wild without his usual product. The stubble on his cheek remained untouched by a razor. He wondered to himself how he had even been able to get dressed that morning. A loose white polo shirt and maroon cardigan hanging loose above a pair of light grey, cut at the ankle pants. His black oxfords vibrant against his exposed ankles. Free of socks. It was almost usual except for the black, askew bow tie that was attached to the collar. It had been tied in lightning speed without daily care to detail.

Pulling his car harshly to a stop outside the stadium, Blaine rubbed his eyes. Shit. He needed coffee. The event was only five minutes in. It was okay. He could do this. He could still get heaps of pictures. Only one act had gone by now. He took a deep breath in. Trying to calm not his body but his mind that shouted profanities at him. He just had to go in there and get those bloody pictures. Clutching his camera, he seized himself. He **could** do this.

'_We're as different as can be_

_I've noticed you__'__re remarkably relaxed!'_

They were almost halfway through the song. It had been going flawlessly. Both had played with the crowd a bit. When Quinn posed, Kurt had acted immersed in the girl, while she winked to the crowd. A playful grin playing on both their lips. Kurt knew he had got this in the bag. He closed his eyes for a mere second. Ready for their quick procession. He felt himself being lost in the music. As the singer spoke of being remarkably uptight, he spun Quinn out. The crowd gasping in awe as she moved. They were remarkable. Going straight from the turn, she lifted her leg high behind her to be caught by Kurt. It worked, of course.

Placing his hands on her hips, Quinn leaned into the touch. Her arms threading through his shoulders and holding him close by the neck. He looked content to the crowd. Blissed in the arms he loved before she quite teasingly moved away from him. Raising a theatrical eyebrow. This was one of his favorite parts. Raising the eyebrow back, Kurt skated around her to pick up speed before he caught his left skate with his right. His body gracefully standing as his leg went above a 180 degree angle. His arms circling around him as he showed off for all to see. He broke the stance. Bowing to the girl. It was a game of cat and mouse.

'_I start to stutter._

_Ha, ha, heaven help me…'_

He had just made it into his seat when the performance started. He had to push through a few disgruntled fans but he got in the first row eventually. His itching fingers reaching for his ancient camera. It was an antique. But in his opinion, the old stuff always got the best pictures. They would be need to be processed properly. He knew the result would be worth it. Playing with the dials and settings, he hummed to himself as the first verse ended. A head next to him turning to him to silence him. Jeez.. people hear were serious about their sports. Though he never thought ice skating was really that much of a sport…

Raising the camera to his glasses, Blaine lifted his head, only for the machinery to slowly almost fall as he caught sight of the man in front of him. His hands quickly moved to catch his prized possession. Another glare being sent his way as he fumbled. The man moving along that ice was… he was something else. He danced with a beautiful girl. One who he could easily see admired if he had a thing for breasts. She was nothing compared to the male. All long limbs with a face that could shine brighter than the gems upon her dress any day. His hair was styled to perfection. Sweat dripping from his forehead as he moved so wonderfully. The boys leg rising higher than he thought possible. He was flexible. That was evident. The thought went right to place it really shouldn't have. Blaine was mesmerized. The camera clicking rapidly not to take pictures of their technique but of him. He almost choked when the unknown boy opened his eyes. They were the clearest of blues. Shining far brighter than any star Blaine had seen before.

'_Puppy love is hard to ignore!_

_When every little thing you do,'_

All that was left was the finale. A mere verse. Opening his eyes, Kurt examined the crowd once more. He took it all in. They had done it. No, he had done it. Everything in that moment was worth sacrifice. Inspired by the 50s' dance that their coach and he were so fond of, Quinn and him almost danced on their points to the ukulele beats. Their grins at each other now not fake at all. They almost tapped out a beat as the spun. Weaving their way towards one another for the finish. Grabbing her waist, they floated together on cloud nine before once more they had to return back to the truth of it all. Their foreheads touching as they panted for breath.

The crowd went wild as the singer giggled. Their applause miraculous. Feet rising to stand for the well deserved. Breaking apart, they turned to bow graciously. All they could do was watch as roses fell at their feet. Time after that seemed to race. He was running on adrenaline. The world a blur. The judges giving them a high score that caused Quinn to start screaming in his ear. A kiss pressed to his cheek. He was good enough.

_Every little thing you do,_

_I do adore._

Blaine could not take his eyes nor his camera off of him. He was perhaps one of the most amazing creatures he had seen. As the crowd rose to its feet, he gladly rose with it. Clapping madly for the man. As he name shown on the screen above, Blaine knew he had to meet him. Kurt Hummel. A boy who had beaten all expectations of him from what the commentator was saying and a boy who had captured his heart and if not that, than certainly another part within his body. Kurt Hummel was glorious.


	2. Living Proof of Someone Very Different

Kurt Hummel felt higher than cloud nine. His breath was shaken, his heart racing, his eyes wide, and adrenaline high. He felt as if everyone was shouting in his ear, although they might have been just whispering. His world blurred around him. Almost hazy through his eyes. Everyone backstage was giggling; high, not on drugs, but success. He thought Quinn was jumping on him, though he was probably wrong. There were too many bodies in the crowd to be identified accurately in his current state.

He was rooted to the spot but his coach grabbed his shoulder and with a harsh tug he was pulled back to what was happening.

His coach grabbed his shoulder. He was rooted to the spot. With a harsh tug, he was pulled back to what was happening. He had won. They had won. Tonight he could celebrate. Now? He needed to get out of the costume. Thick and sticky it clung to his body uncomfortably. His hair was moist. It stuck to his forehead. The amount of sweat on him would cause mountains on his face if he did not use his skin care regime soon. He needed cleanser. Stat.

Getting to the room was a challenge. He had to destroy half the divas. Metaphorically of course*. They were too busy running about like nutcases. Women. He would never understand them. The last he saw of Quinn was her running towards her new boy toy. (A man with a name like chuck or something… He couldn't care less.) She had done her part in the grand scheme of things. Falling onto his dressing room chair with a worn out puff, he melted into the regal red fabric. He could stay here for hours.

He opened up his tired eyes to stare into the mirror. He was pasty. A true mess. Reaching for the towel on his vanity he began to dap it along his face. Erasing the effects of his last act. The feel of cold water was good along his skin. He only wished he could have enjoyed it. Hearing two knocks at the door he glared at himself in the mirror. His coach knew not to mess with him in the aftermath. His happiness replaced with aching bones that longed only for rest.

"Come in."

He yelled in a vicious tone. Whoever entered his room now was about to be torn to shreds. Watching through his reflection, he stared at the man who walked in. A judging moment was spared. From what he could see, this man was a curly haired hipster with little care for hygiene. A photographer too. Just what he needed. The man opened his mouth only to stumble. Great. He was articulate as well.

"Hello. My name is Blaine Anderson-"

He was interrupted by the sharp retort that left Kurt's lips.

"And?"

He shuffled. Clutching the camera Kurt had yet to see. It was vintage. Obviously. An ancient thing that he would be surprised worked at all. He wondered if the switch at the top of the camera was even able to move. It was probably a poser novelty. A sign of initiation in his little clan of oxford boys.

"And I was wondering if…"

"If?"

"I-I-I could take you out to dinner?"

"No."

The man's face fell, the hopeful glimpse in his eye dying. That was the end of that. Sparing him one last look, Kurt turned his body back to look into the mirror. His fingers grabbing his skincare tightly as he began to apply it. A cold look sent back when he realized the man had yet to leave.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

—-

Blaine Anderson knew he had to meet Kurt Hummel from the moment his eyes met that figure. He was stunning. In a moment of bravery, he completely forgot of his attire let alone how much of a wreck he appeared. He was off racing behind the scenes to meet the man of his dreams. Looking the worst he ever had. Stupidity is not usually realized at the time. Blaine did not think of how his hair was curled nor how the stubble on his cheek was harsh and plentiful. The only thought was Kurt. Kurt who could be straight for all he knew.

However, if this author told you that he was thinking correctly at the time she would be wrong. People always seem to do the stupidest things at the beginning of a love story. This was the stupidest thing Blaine Anderson had ever done. Especially in front of a man whose attire was of first priority.

He rammed past reporters and sailed past coaches. He was on a mission. The door with the man's name painted in gold print. Brilliant. Bold in a hallway of full of people, he thanked his lucky stars that he had a backstage pass; being a photographer and all. Standing outside the door, he took a moment to calm himself. Afraid of ramming into the door with a fever neither his arm nor the skater would appreciate.

There was one problem he hadn't thought of unfortunately and it wasn't his clothes. That problem was that on the way of to getting from A to B he hadn't thought of what to say. Typical of him if you knew him. He had no speech prepared of undying love at first sight. That was his downfall. In the end he was no Romeo of Capulet. He was just a boy fumbling at the door of another young man he knew a connection could be shared with.

Sometimes in life you can meet someone. Someone who is far more special than many other someones. This person when you first set eyes on them is bright. Vibrant in a sea of people who are probably all worth your time. The human race have been trying to figure out this connection for years. Some have said it is the ideals of soul mates. Scientists blame it on chemicals. At times your dreams can be shattered when you speak to that someone. His were. It was only because of his fierce determination that eventually he would be able to piece that dream back together.

He had been turned down. Any rational man would take that as full stop no. Blaine wasn't rational. He never had been. Not when it came to love. Well, the beginning symptoms of it. He wasn't going to give up that easily. As Kurt would soon find out. He got the job he wanted. Wes had ended up liking his pictures. If they happened to feature mainly only a chestnut brunette, he didn't say anything. He had too many things to worry about than a stupid crush one of his photographers had. When Blaine begged to be put in the sports section? He gave it to him. The kid was good. He wouldn't deny an opportunity for great shots. He just learnt to ignore the almost crazy look Blaine would get when ice skating was involved.

Kurt was unable to neither ignore nor avoid Blaine. Seeing him became a regular occurrence to his distaste. After every win, he would be there, his persistence unfaltering. He banged on his door until Kurt would open. He grinned at him with that stupid, puppy dog eyes and smile. He used cheesy pick-up lines he was sure had been googled. He bought him roses, lilies, daisies, tulips, any flower imaginable. He was the definition of an annoying git. He just would never realize it. No matter how nasty Kurt put it. Weeks of this became months.

Before he knew it, he had known Blaine for over half a year and though he would never admit it, he had developed a fondness for him. He did look nice when he bothered to get dressed. Not that he would ever tell that dapper motherfucker that his charms were working full force. He would never hear the end of it. His usual visits would become regular stalking. No, Blaine knowing that Kurt actually liked him was not an option. He could live with left over flowers and stolen glances disguised as glares. He didn't have to risk his heart in this mess.


	3. I Love You Like Never Before

It wasn't until a month or so later that Kurt finally gave in. He had too much pride to let Blaine take him on a date, or anything of the romantic nature, but he liked the idea of being friends. Blaine had been caught off guard when he entered the male's dressing room once more to hear that request. Kurt sat at his vanity preening over his appearance as usual. His attention shared between both his mirror and the clock that stood on his deck. It was almost time for the weekly visit. Kurt knew Blaine didn't always arrive on the same day and at times, he didn't show up at all.

"Uhhh…Kurt?"

Surely enough, there Blaine was. Standing in his doorway in all his short, 5'8 glory. Not much to love but still there. His curly hair had been tamed since their first meeting with what must be the super-size bottle of gel in one go. His glasses replaced with contacts in order to show his caramel eyes. Kurt would be lying if he said that he had not made a double take when meeting Blaine for the second time. Despite being a midget, he was kinda cute, if you cancelled out his too nice attitude that made Kurt want to hit him.

"I…I bought tickets to this show and I was wondering if maybe you could come with me? I could buy you dinner? Are you hungry? You're probably hungry. With performing and all."

Kurt watched Blaine ramble on and felt a smile hit his lips. So maybe his all too nice personality was adorable. He didn't stop the shorter man from going on however. It was too entertaining. He watched long, nimble fingers crush and release the hem of his cardigan. Those brown eyes stared at anything but his face. He couldn't help but ponder if the vase in the corner of his room was really all that interesting.

"I mean maybe we could eat some pasta. I really like Italian food. My mother was a bit Italian. I could even cook some for you. Italian, that is. My mama taught me how. I make a mean-"

"Sure, Blaine."

The boy almost fell with how far his jaw hit the ground. His eyes finally met his. Blue taking in hazel. Blaine searched his expression with the most shocked exterior. It was almost as if he expected Kurt to crack up laughing, and let out a snarly, "I was just kidding." Not that he blamed him for thinking that. Kurt almost didn't know why he was saying yes himself.

Blaine stared at Kurt. He was grinning like a maniac, he was sure. But there he was, Kurt Hummel, the beautiful guy that had been on his mind for weeks. He tried to hide his glances after Kurt's last retort when he caught him staring. The man had given him a strict, "Keep your eyes on the road Anderson." The smile he got with those words had been heart warming.

At the corner of his eye, he saw Kurt's hand resting on his jeans. Long, graceful fingers tapping out the rhythm to the song of the radio with precision. He wasn't sure if a hand could be beautiful but Kurt's hands were certainly appealing. He wondered what it would feel like to hold Kurt's hand. His own fingers reached out towards the man's as he bit his lip. His eyes staring at the road with almost too much attention. He felt skin upon skin, cold, but comforting but even more so when their fingers interlaced. It felt so wonderful.

If Kurt had his eyebrows raised at him, almost challengingly, he didn't say a word about it. His hand resting along the gentle fabric on Kurt's thigh was brilliant. He wasn't about to share his thoughts with Kurt. Not with how he probably already thought the photographer was lame enough. The rest of the ride to the restaurant was silent except for the tune pleasantly playing from the car speakers.

Kurt had been shocked when he felt Blaine's skin touch his and returned the gesture. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from this night but it hadn't been that. When they had arrived at the restaurant Blaine had almost seemed heartbroken to let go of him in order to leave the vehicle.

The restaurant was better than Kurt thought the hobbit could afford. It was, as promised, Italian. The memory of Blaine rambling on about it only an hour before almost made Kurt giggle. The restaurant was a small joint but not a poor one by the looks of it. The place was filled with people smiling, laughing and chatting away. It was a loud area that looked free from posh etiquette. The doors were made of pure wood with carvings of flowers weaving their ways into vines To the right two large, open glass doors connected the outside to the inside. The outside was clearly marked and shaped by a small, thick, intricate, metal fence. It was a garden filled with beautiful flowers and large trees. Connected to the branches were strings of brightly lit paper lanterns. It was…breath taking.

The inside was by far lovelier, the furniture the style of French Provincial; chairs white with large pillows that looked like you could sink into, tables of grandiose, with large tablecloths of lace and embroidery and a vase of fresh flowers of decoration. A ray of colour in the white based room. To the far right however was a bustling kitchen. A vanity cut from the wall to show the chef's creating their masterpieces through the night. The lead chefs voice was booming., the kitchen seemed to be filled with tenderness. For a moment Kurt wondered if it was run by a family.

He was led to one of the tables in the far corner as Blaine nodded to one of the cooks with a bright smile. The table was like all the others except for the fact that it sat under a large painting of what he could only guess was a European country side and featured, as well as a vase, one single candle. It was probably the most beautiful place anyone had ever taken him before, Kurt thought, which bothered him a little that of all people to take him here, it was Blaine Anderson.

"Do you know the people that run it?" Kurt asked as Blaine reached out towards his chair in order to pull it from the table for him. It would make sense if he did. Perhaps that was how he could afford it. The chef's gave him fifty percent, maybe more, because of how friendly he was to them. He could see the photographer getting away with little scams like that.

Blaine nervously ran a finger along his tie as he ripped it a bit from his neck. His fiddling giving Kurt all the answer he needed.

"Yes, I do."

He was hoping Blaine would give him more information than that as a long silence echoed but nothing came up. He obviously didn't want Kurt to know that he couldn't afford a place like this and was only getting by, by the kindness of his friends in the kitchen. The topic almost made Blaine uncomfortable. A cough following from his lips as he grabbed a menu and passed one to him.

"The pasta is good here, especially the cannelloni, though my favorites are the pizzas. I know, I know. Typical of a guy."

He shared a small, secret upturn of the lips towards Kurt. The smile almost adoring as his eyes shone in the pale, flicker of light given by the candle. Kurt could not help but give a small laugh. His fingers opening the menu as his eyes took in the long, elegant printed writing on the inside. It was all written in obvious Italian with English translations given on the opposite side. He read through the dishes with a great debate in his mind. They are sounded delicious. Thick, creamy sauces, Juicy, tender meats, fresh seafood, and mentions of well-cooked vegetables made his stomach churn in delight. It was hard to pick just one.

"Would you like me to order for you?"

And there went Blaine being all cute. He stared at Kurt with a caring look and turned his head to the side, as if he was a puppy staring in confusion. Kurt looked back at his menu and in took the Italian words that stared at him. He quickly nodded back. He even goes far enough to return Blaine's smile for the first time. He watched, if not intently, as Blaine called over a waiter only to speak to him in rushed tones of fluent Italian. When Kurt heard him talk like that, Blaine becomes sexy. His voice dropping down an octave and tongue moving quickly to shape the words. Kurt never thought Blaine could be sexy.

When the waiter quickly made his way back to the kitchen, Blaine turned to him with an adorable blush.

"So… ice skating. How'd you get into that?"

Kurt smirked

"Photography. How is it that one is interested in that?"

Blaine blinked. Once. Twice. Than he smirked back at Kurt as if getting an unknown joke.

"You first."

"I wanted to perform because it gives me courage. When I was in high school, life was hard. The bullying was frequent and it made me feel worthless." Kurt speaks matter of fact as if he was talking about the weather. "But when I skated? I felt free. It wasn't like flying or anything you hear from those divas who want to be all poetic about it. But it was more like letting go. When I skate, I let go of whom I'm supposed to be and suddenly, it doesn't matter about who I was or am. All that's matters is about what I can be."

Blaine looked at him like he is seeing him for the first time and though he doesn't know, he just made the boy fall more in love with him than ever before. He knew that feeling. The rich taste that runs through you when you find that passion you have been looking for all your life. Kurt is beautiful. In that moment more so than Blaine has ever seen him while the fire beside them burned quietly showing each highlight of his face. But Blaine wasn't looking at that. He wasn't looking at Kurt's thin lips as they pull together waiting for a reply nor the way his eye's sparkle a deep green tonight. Blaine is, for the first time, looking properly at _Kurt_.

"That's why I do it. Photography, that is. When I was younger I wanted to be a performer. An actor in the big Broadway lights. All that jazz. You always hear stories of people who know what they want to do until they get to uni only to find out they hate it. That happened to me sorta. I got to university and found that even though I love acting, I wanted something else. I found photography while doing a favour to a friend for the school newspaper. Ever since than me and photography just…clicked."

Kurt nodded to himself at the new found information.

"You're far more interesting then I originally though, Anderson."

Blaine felt himself shuffle nervously as Kurt's kind yet judging eyes fall over him. He reached for a piece of the mozzarella pizza he had ordered. The cheese tasty sweet on his taste buds. His gaze never left Kurt's however as he chewed and eventually digested. The two of them playing at each other with their eyes. Kurt's gaze was abrupt with many mysteries while Blaine's were large and full of easily shown thoughts.

"So…" Blaine paused. "You obviously like classical music?"

The night flew by in a blur of excitable small talk. He listened as Kurt told him all about the musicians which inspired him. His eyes becoming impossibly greater in depth as he spoke about the things he loved. In return Blaine told him about all the books he had read and watched Kurt giggle as he told him funny stories about his college years.

"And this one time- I remember I was sitting there all innocent when Thad runs into the room and starts screaming at me. I'm talking full on yelling. I'm sure the teachers could have heard it all the way over at the side of the school in their staff room. He's making this big fuss all about a tattoo and why didn't I tell him? What was wrong with me to do this? All of sudden, he lifts up his shirt and there it is."

Kurt leaned in, almost desperate to hear the end of Blaine's great escapade. Blaine complies by leaning into the warmth of Kurt's body next to his. He noticed how close their lips are. Kurt is so near that he can feel his breath on the edge of his nose; warm, comfortable, wanted.

"A bird." Blaine whispered like it was meant to be heart by just the two of them. "David knew an art student had gotten him to draw a warbler onto Wes's back in full ink. It was our newspaper mascot. It wasn't a real tattoo nor permanent at all. Not that Thad knew that when he woke up. It was absolutely hilarious. He went berserk. Even more so when we nicknamed the bird, Pavarotti. One of the greatest moments of my life."

Those lips moved from his as quickly as they had been there. Watching Kurt, however, it was completely worth it as he laughed whole-heartedly. His mouth was open wide and eyes shut tightly. His arms clutching his side. The laughter was contagious. Soon they were both giggling like fools. Tears dripping from their eyes. The story hadn't really been that funny but something about it all made it hilarious to the both of them. It was one of those moments.

"May we have the bill please?"

Blaine raised his hand towards a waiter passing by. He was a unique boy with long, thin, lanky limbs that seemed almost too skinny for his body. He had a harsh jaw with cheekbones that probably caused unique damage if he ever slammed into another kid. He nodded eagerly at Blaine with a look that could rival Blaine's own classical twinkling eyes. The gesture seemed almost too enthusiastic to be given to just the visiting customer.

He hadn't gotten Blaine to admit anything all night. Looking up, Kurt watched Blaine's face transform from its usual glee (get the pun?) into one of almost… annoyance? A man stood at their table. His uniform the classic for chef's around town. A neatly pressed white, double-breasted shirt with shiny, black buttons and checkered pants. The most prominent figure was the Chef's hat that sat on the top of his head. He recognized this man. This was the man who had been yelling through out the night orders of pastas, tomatoes, and many other ingredients he could only guess as he shouted in his language.

"Blaine!"

The man spoke amusedly and grabbed one of the other man's right hands. Shaking it so quickly Kurt was surprised it didn't snap off. Kurt was happy that it was not him being almost attacked. Or so he thought. Turning the man pushed him to his feet and two, strong, very muscular arms wrapped around him. The embrace was fleeting. The man seemed to move like lightning, constantly there and gone again.

"Oh I am so happy! This is the first time our boy over there has brought a boy back to the mother country."

He spoke jokingly. His eyes racking over Kurt's figure with definite approval as he nod before his body twisted smoothly towards the other man. Blaine previously getting up in order to join the engagement. Those arms wrapping around him and squeezing tightly. He almost looked like he had choked.

"Blaine, you sly dog! Where have you been hiding this one, eh?

He turned his head to Kurt.

"This boy is always keeping secrets from his brothers. I would watch out if I was you. Never know where he's going to be going next. I'm not saying he's the cheating kind. Us boys would have knocked it out of him if he was. This boy," a figure pressed against Blaine's chest. His gaze well meaning yet intense on Kurt. "This boy is keeper. You won't find any bigger sweetheart in all of America, I tell you, I tell you that!" The man chuckled to himself.

Blaine's face expressed the very definition of uncomfortable. His hands folded solely over his chest. His eyes looking up Kurt with apologies. His jacket draped over him in obvious discomfort.

"Eugene."

The now named man, Eugene, turned to share a look with Blaine. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes amused. A large contrast compared to Blaine's almost worried nature as he stared. A second passed though to Kurt it might have as been an hour. Eugene's look turning from happy to overall confused as Blaine shook his head.

"Oh I get it. You hound dog! You want little ol' me out of way so you can go and make some lovin' after such delicious food. Cant' say I blame ya. Your mother's pasta is might fine and I make it just as good as the ol' sweetheart does. Don't tell Mrs Anderson I told you that thought, boy. Can't have her firing my ass. No one else would take me."

Eugene had a mocking, silly edge to his voice except for those last few words that were laced with almost serious fear. Wait… mother? Inside of Kurt's mind everything started clicking into place. His mother owned the restaurant? It was a family business. Patting Blaine on the back, Eugene begun to make his exit but not without screaming at him to not think about paying. In his words, they needed to take care of family.

After Eugene, the conversation had come to short stops of absolute silence on Kurt's half. The car ride had been short with tension almost suffocating the air around them. He shouldn't have taken Kurt there. He had probably wrecked the whole night. Why had he even taken Kurt there of all places? Kurt had said he liked Italian and he didn't know an Italian better than their family business, without any sense of bragging, but that didn't mean he wanted to have Italian. Internally Blaine was smashing his head against the wheel of the car, thankfully, for the sake of their lives he didn't do it in reality though the thought was tempting.

"So…family business?"

Kurt asked him with a raised eyebrow, an almost frown on his beautiful lips. He was such an idiot. Idiot, idiot, _idiot. _The mantra repeated itself over and over inside his head.

"The restaurant is my mothers. She created it in her mid twenties before I was born and worked her way up. The whole place was created by her. Recipes, interior, it's her pride and joy. She's Italian." Blaine stated the last bit as if it was a complete explanation to why he had taken him there. Kurt paused for a moment but not without motioning for him to continue. "Well." Began Blaine, "You said you wanted Italian."

The words were laced with an awkward amount of tension from just six words. His fingers twitching against the steering well. Then suddenly… Kurt was _laughing_. A delicate chime echoing throughout the car. Blaine turned his gaze to Kurt slowly to see this was really happening. The most dazzling of smiles caught Kurt's lips as their eyes met.

"Well than…I guess I'll have to meet this mother of yours sometime. Her food was delicious."

And suddenly Blaine was smiling too and the night didn't seem like such a disaster, and maybe just maybe Kurt would want to go on another date. If he was lucky. Suddenly Blaine was as high as a kite and the ground didn't seem that appealing.

"Sure. I mean, yes! Of course you could meet her. If you want to hang out sometime. Maybe we could go on another date to the movies? You could come over to my place! Not to do…that or anything. But I've got this mad DvD collection and-"

Suddenly Blaine was back to being himself.

**AUTHORS NOTE**

Hello, everyone! My name is Elsie. Today I decided to start doing these things because I think they are informative! I am sorry for being away so long. I didn't mean to, it just happened. School has started which has been chaotic not to mention assessment. I hope you will forgive me. I gave you a very big, long, six page chapter in return. Do not fear! I am writing chapter 4 like crazy! Reviews are always loved! Thank you for reading!

~ Elsie.


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